


Follow You Anywhere

by edenbound



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Relationship, Human Crowley (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 05:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19882561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenbound/pseuds/edenbound
Summary: "We've got a problem," Crowley says, the moment he steps into the shop. Aziraphale barely looks up because Crowley, bless him, is prone to being dramatic.





	Follow You Anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> I expected this to be really hard to wrangle into the length of fic I prefer to write, and then Aziraphale went and made everything rather simple.
> 
> Crowley is asexual in this story, but there is a reference to them having sex. Crowley might not be interested in sex for itself, but he enjoys it with Aziraphale. There is no angst about sexuality in this fic, although it's not exactly a _happy_ story for plot reasons. Bittersweet might be a better word.
> 
> This is like... a series of sketches of a situation, not a full and satisfying story, btw. It's meant to knock you over with the emotions, not answer all your questions. If you're looking for a fully fleshed out story, it's not the thing!

"We've got a problem," Crowley says, the moment he steps into the shop. Aziraphale barely looks up because Crowley, bless him, is prone to being dramatic.   
  
"I'll say we do," he says, over an armful of books. "Those people nearly bought half my stock."  
  
"Angel, I'm serious," Crowley says, and something in his voice makes Aziraphale look up. He's not wearing his sunglasses, and his eyes --  
  
His eyes are blue.  
  
Aziraphale drops the entire stack of books.  
  


* * *

  
"It's a pretty healthy sort of body, I think," Crowley says, giving himself a critical once-over. "I'd say I have at least a few years left."  
  
"Years!" Aziraphale is stricken. "My darling, you should have _centuries_. Eons!"  
  
"Yes, well," says Crowley. "I don't think that's on the cards, angel." He narrows his eyes -- his blue, human eyes. "'Darling'?"  
  
"That's hardly what's at issue here," Aziraphale says, crossly. "Of course you're my darling, I thought that had been settled since the Blitz at the very latest, but we've got to _think of something_!"  
  
Crowley shakes his head. "Aziraphale, I didn't know. I didn't think..."  
  
"Oh, my darling," Aziraphale says, and he opens his arms to Crowley.  
  


* * *

  
Crowley is worryingly blasé about it. The first time he can't just snap his fingers and pay the check, he's a bit baffled, but other than that he seems to go on as normal. Aziraphale makes sure he never wants for anything, and Crowley is so used to have his powers at the tips of his fingers, to having the universe obey him, that he barely seems to register that his brand new wallet shouldn't be refilling itself magically.   
  
Crowley still wears his sunglasses, so Aziraphale is the only one who gets to see his eyes. And Aziraphale finds that he rather likes the blue of Crowley's eyes, cornflower blue -- no, a colour of blue he hasn't seen since the Garden, a secret blue.  
  
He is human now, but fundamentally there is no change. He is the same Crowley: mercurial, infuriating, entirely lovely. When he allows Aziraphale to make love to him ("It's still not really my thing," Crowley said, when he'd asked, "but I want to feel you close to me -- ") he is the same as always, though the hectic beat of his fragile human heart beneath his palm terrifies Aziraphale.  
  


* * *

  
"Well, he couldn't become an angel again," Adam says, reasonably. "I could've _done_ that, but I don't think they'd be very happy to see him."  
  
"So you made him human."  
  
"Yeah. It's not so bad, you know? And now Hell can't touch him. They had plans for him, you know."  
  
"Adam," Aziraphale says, his throat tight, "humans _die_. And I won't. And I only just..."  
  
"Oh," Adam says.  
  
"Yes," Aziraphale says.  
  


* * *

  
"I think I'll have to sell these books," Aziraphale says, worriedly. He's carefully separated out the books he might, just, be willing to sell. Crowley looks up from his sprawl in a chair that he actually brought in himself, physically, wrestling it through the door and past two teetering stacks of books to claim a space at the heart of the shop.   
  
"You? Actually sell books?"  
  
"Well, my dear, of course. I have a lot of very careful investments, but you never know. If we want to keep dining at the Ritz..."  
  
Crowley realises immediately. He's always been so clever. "Angel -- "  
  
"Not anymore," Aziraphale says, his heart pounding, his human heart. "I did specify very carefully that we should have the same span of time. I'll last a few moments beyond you, that's all. I thought you'd prefer it that way. If you didn't have to see me go first."  
  
"Aziraphale," and his voice is choked. Aziraphale goes to him, kneels before him.  
  
"My dear, I won't let you go somewhere I can't follow."  
  
And it really is as simple as that.


End file.
